Rum
by Twyla Mercedes
Summary: On board ship to Neverland, Emma finds a bottle of rum and, grieving over the twin loses of Neal and Henry, opts to go and seek consolation with Gold. One thing just leads to another. Definitely not your Rumbelle romance.


My inner Golden Swan just had to come out with this modest drabble with Emma and Gold on board ship sailing on to Neverland and to whatever might be awaiting them there.

**Rum**

Emma had been on the boat for less than four hours when she realized she hated the boat. Not the ocean, mind you - the boat. The constant, unrelenting up and down, back and forth movement. The clammy darkness. Up and down. The cramped quarters. Back and forth. Hook. Up and down. The blank gray horizon. Back and forth.

She had felt better when she had been able to get out on deck and could see the ocean and feel the cold spray from the waves. The fog and the light rain she stood in seemed to help her breath and clear her head. Closing her eyes she allowed the waters in all their forms to wash over her, drinking it all in, and she felt better.

She didn't know if it was just the traveling in a boat that Columbus would have thought was squiggy or if it was the inter-dimensional travel component that was disorienting her. Or if it was . . . Neal.

She was in so much pain.

She had forgotten she could hurt this much.

She kept replaying those last moments over and over in her mind. She kept feeling his grasp slip from hers. She kept seeing the light in Gold's eyes die as she told him his son, his precious son whom he had searched for, for over three centuries, his only child for whom he had maneuvered and manipulated countless people, the person that he had created the loathsome Curse so that he could re-connect with him. . . having to tell Gold that his son was dead, lost in a maelstrom of an inter-dimensional warp.

Neal.

The one person she had not gone a day without thinking of, usually cursing his name, usually threatening him with death, dismemberment and flagellation should she ever encounter him again. The one person she had not gone a day without missing, without wondering what had happened to him, without wondering how he could have abandoned her.

_Without wondering if he had ever loved her._

She spent eleven years denying her feelings for him.

Gold had seen through her. Oh yes, he had known immediately once he had seen them together. He had seen it. He had known it.

_Damn him._

She had loved Neal. She had never stopped loving him. She had never loved anyone else.

Gold had told her it was True Love, very rare, very precious, very powerful.

But Gold had also become angry, so angry when he'd discovered that his son was Henry's father. He had seemed shaken and disturbed. Something he had not predicted, had not seen, that his intuition had not forewarned him of. . . .

_He hadn't realized that Henry was his grandson! All that power. All that foresight. He had not realized. How had he missed it? _

Yet he'd agreed to go help with the search and rescue of Henry, forsaking the love of his life for his grandchild, his family. It was an odd crew, for sure, of enemies joined together for the sake of finding her son. Gold knew of Neverland, as did Hook, and neither seemed to relish the idea of going there. This enemy, The Shadow, Pan, whatever it was calling itself, apparently gave even the great Rumplestiltskin pause.

Emma found herself standing outside of Gold's cabin holding a bottle of . . . _something_. She was pretty sure it was alcoholic, probably rum. It looked like rum. It smelled like rum. She'd found it in a cupboard of the cabin she had claimed as her own.

"Gold, it's Emma," she announced rapping on the closed door.

"What do you want?" he didn't sound particularly inviting.

But then, he never did.

"To come in."

"Why?" The door was still closed.

"To talk. We need to talk."

There was a long pause. The door cracked and she could see one of his chocolate brown eyes _so like Henry's. Why had she not seen it before?_

"About what?"

_Exasperating man!_ "Henry, Neal, Bae, you, me. . ." _What else?_

There was another long pause.

The door opened just a bit wider and she slipped in.

"Got some glasses?" she asked, holding up the bottle of suspicious brown liquid.

He shrugged and then scrounged around the cabin. It was bigger than the one she had. _Just like Gold to take the biggest and best_. His had a bed built up against the wall, a small table and a single chair. There were a couple of cabinets and he began to search through these. There were also a couple of portholes _Emma had just one in her quarters._ A single small lantern hung from the ceiling giving off a pallid light.

"Your cabin doesn't smell as bad as mine does," she observed after a moment.

"I got rid of the smell," he waved his fingers at her. "You could do the same. You're quite capable."

"Yeah, well, I don't know what the hell I'm doing with. . . " she waved her fingers back at him, "this stuff. I'd be afraid I'd blow a hole in the side of the ship or up-end us all." Her finger tips tingled.

That got her a smirk.

"Any luck finding us those glasses yet? I found this," she held up the bottle again, "in my cabin but no glasses."

He did a brief search and, in the back of one of the cabinets, along with another bottle of dubious booze, he did locate two glasses, neither particularly clean. He wiped them out with his silk handkerchief. "I suppose whatever liquor is in these bottles will kill any organisms living in these glasses." He put both glasses down in front of her.

She poured. They lifted the glasses and it took but a moment for them to give a toast.

"Neal," said Emma just as Gold said, "Bae."

Both Gold and Emma immediately began to cough as the burning liquor hit their throats. They both wiped their eyes. He refilled their glasses.

"I'm so sorry," Emma began and she sat down on the side of the bed, leaving the one chair for Gold.

"I know you tried to save him, Emma. I have no doubt of that."

Emma continued, "But I didn't save him. I didn't save him from being shot. I didn't save him from falling into the warp. I didn't do anything. I'm a crappy savior." She took a sip, as did he, and he sat on the bed next to her _not the chair_.

"I'm sure you did everything you could," he reassured her, patting her on the shoulder.

"It's so unfair."

"I've lived a very long time, Emma. Life is not fair."

"But some things are just plain wrong." She felt like tears were welling up _and she never cried._

"Perhaps," he agreed. He finished off the second glass and poured them a third.

"I did love him," she admitted.

"I know," he told her.

"What's it like?" she asked him.

He wasn't sure what she was asking and his face reflected his confusion.

"Being so all powerful. Being able to do stuff," she clarified.

He sat a moment. "It's nice," he finally said neutrally.

"Just nice?"

"I've been able to live. . .in comfort. I've been able to acquire many, many things. You saw some of them back at the shop. . . and in my house."

"But they were just things," Emma observed.

"Ah, but they were nice things. Very nice things."

"But they weren't enough, were they?" Emma asked him.

"For a while they were, until. . . ." he paused.

"Until Belle came into your life," Emma supplied.

He took a long drink. "At first she was just one of my things."

Emma raised her eyebrows.

He smiled at her. "Ogres were invading her father's kingdom. Her father and his ministers were," he gave her a sidelong glance, "desperate."

"So they naturally called on you," Emma supplied, remembering well how the man seemed to be able to smell desperation.

"Well of course. The fools were going to try to trade me gold to save their kingdom."

"But you can spin straw into gold!" Emma was puzzled.

"Exactly. So I asked for something 'more precious.'"

"My god! The girl, Belle!" Emma poured them both another glass. "And just what were your intentions towards her?"

"More honorable than anyone ever gives me credit for, Emma. Murder I can do, but rape never appealed to me." He took another long drink before he continued, "There were so many stories about me. People thought that I ate the babies I traded for and bedded the girls I took as housemaids on an hourly rotation. Truth be known, the babies went into good homes that could love and provide for them and I never touched the girls. Never wanted to," he told her, petulantly. "The truth was that I had a very large estate and I didn't want to expend the magical energy it would take to care for it. I genuinely needed a caretaker. A housekeeper. A cook. A laundress."

"So Belle saved her people by agreeing to become your household drudge!?" Emma was appalled.

"Save your indignation, Emma. It was not an uncommon bargain where I come from. Not so very different from people working nine to five for thirty years for some ingrate company in the world you grew up in. I would often acquire a girl by bargaining with her parents or her king or . . . somebody. The girl would stick around for a couple of months, doing a half-ass job of keeping my castle clean, and then I would let her run away. Usually, if the girl had any brains in her head she would steal some of my gold thread and would be able to set herself up in a new and better life. Then, after a while, I would get a new girl."

"So what happened with Belle?"

He closed his eyes a moment before answering. When he opened his eyes, he gazed off and spoke slowly, remembering, "She was different from the beginning. The other girls took pains to avoid me, which was just as well, they were so dumb and boring, but she sought me out."

"Maybe she was lonely. Just a big ole castle, housework and you."

"She said she thought I was the lonely one. She kept talking to me. Asking me about my day. What kind of deals I had been up to. Asking me about my feelings. Sharing her feelings with me."

"Must have been a fucking nightmare for you," Emma said, laughing at him.

He shook his head, "You can't imagine. Not only did she seek me out to keep me company, but unlike the other girls, she was intent on keeping her end of the bargain and really tried to keep things cleaned. Ah, but she hadn't been raised for the work. She didn't know how to cook," he smiled in fond recall. "Things were often raw or burnt and many times I would have to whisk away my supper and get another through my magic that I could eat. She ruined many of my silk shirts in the laundry. She could do fine embroidery but she didn't know how to do plain sewing. And she was incredibly clumsy. Was she ever clumsy!" a genuine smile came to his lips. "Always tripping and breaking things. And then, more often than not I would find her reading rather than working."

"So why did you keep her around?"

Gold hesitated before responding, "I had begun to slowly appreciate her. She actually seemed to _like_ me. She saw goodness in me. It took me a while but I came to realize that she was the most precious of all my things."

Gold took a deep breath and spoke very slowly, "Once, she was working in a room where I was spinning. She was chattering away and trying. . . she was trying to get some light into the room. She was pulling down my curtains that I had taken the trouble to nail to the window frame to keep the light out and then she . . . she fell. I . . . I caught her. It was the first close human contact I had had in more than twenty years. Soft, warm, I remember that I didn't want to put her down."

"What happened?"

"I put her down. I was scared. I realized that I was developing feelings, genuine feelings for the girl. She was truly lovely. Truly remarkable. And I couldn't believe she could love me."

"But she did, didn't she?" Emma asked.

"She did. But I. . . I rejected her love. I thought she was trying to steal my powers. That she was working with my enemies. I threw her out of my house."

"Damn, that was harsh," Emma told him.

"Thanks," he glared at her. "Regina came later and told me. . . she had died. That she had thrown herself off of a tower, after her father had had her scourged by clerics to rid her of the taint of her association with me." Gold's face reflected his pain.

Emma hesitated this time, "Oh, that explains your feelings towards Moe French. So you had no idea that Regina had lied about her death and no idea that she was stashed in the psycho-ward."

"Of course not. I would have taken the hospital apart brick by brick to get to her."

"But when I broke The Curse?"

"Jefferson freed her right before you broke it. He told her to find me. She did and when you broke The Curse, she remembered everything and told me. . . again. . . that she loved me. This time, I was strong enough to tell her that I loved her too."

"God, that is so wrenching. You find each other, but you're too much of an asshole to believe she loves you and you're torn apart, then the curse breaks and you find each other again, and then you're torn apart when she loses her memory, and then she finally gets her memory back and you find each other again, and then you're torn. . . "

He interrupted. "I lived it Emma, I don't need to be told what happened."

"No, I guess not."

They sat quietly for a moment, drinking.

"How about you and Bae? How did you two meet?" he asked her.

"I went to steal a car that he was sleeping in."

"Well that was stupid."

"More than you know. He had stolen the same car. We hit it off right away, well almost right away. We supported ourselves with some petty crimes, but he wanted to go straight. Settle down, have a family."

"But fate intervened," Gold supplied.

"Yeah. We were going to use some watches he had ripped off and stashed to get us going and I got arrested when I went to pick them up. I didn't realize I was pregnant until after my trial when I had been sentenced for a year."

"And you couldn't find him when you got out?"

"I looked, but he had vanished. I guess that's part of why I became a bounty hunter and finder-of-missing-persons. I couldn't find him. He was pretty good at disappearing," Emma held her glass for Gold to refill, who opened the second bottle of liquor that he'd found in his cabin.

"Yeah, he was hiding from me," Gold told her, then added, "And you couldn't find your parents, either."

"Yeah, I never thought to look for them in a magical town where they were being kept in stasis for nearly thirty years."

"I guess you wouldn't," he was smiling.

"Now, I know your memories didn't come back until I came to town and I know you were the one to find Henry for Regina," Emma was most curious. "So without your memories, how the hell did you happen to arrange for Henry, of all babies, to be adopted by Regina?

"The Curse, it was part of The Curse. I had built in the lure to get you to come to town when the time was ready."

"My head hurts just thinking about all the contingencies you had to foresee and plan for with this curse."

"It was a masterpiece," he conceded.

"I'm not sure I meant that as a compliment," Emma clarified.

"But it was a masterpiece."

By now the two, who were working on their second bottle of rum (or whatever), were sitting on the bed with their backs against the wall, their legs straight in front of them and their feet hanging over the edge of the bed.

"It was a fucking masterpiece," Emma agreed. "Hey," she topped off her glass, and his. "Did you and Belle? Did you and she ever. . . ?"

Gold swelled up, "A gentleman does not discuss. . . "

Emma interrupted, "For pete's sake, don't try and pass yourself off as a gentleman. You're a manipulative opportunist and a general all-around asshole. Did you do her or not?"

"I . . . uh. . . I. . . "

"Did you?" Emma had shifted around so that she was kneeling on the bed, now facing him.

He dropped eye contact with her, "When she was Lacey, she thought of herself as a . . ."

"Slattern, trollop, slut?" Emma supplied several possibilities.

He briefly made eye contact with her. "A woman of easy virtue. She liked the dark side of me. The angry, vengeful, cruel side. She liked the material things I could offer her and was more than willing to move into my house and into my bed."

"So you and Lacey?"

"Eventually. She was hard to resist when she came into my bedroom at night and then climbed into my bed. . . and then climbed on top of me."

Emma started giggling. "I can see that. You in your. . . what do you sleep in, Gold? Black silk boxers, flannel pj's, a gold speedo, the buff?"

"I have silk pajamas."

"Get out!" Emma sipped more of the liquor. "Ok, then, you in your silky pj's and slutty Belle. . . "

"Lacey," he was quick to correct her.

"Slutty Lacey comes slinking in wearing. . . what? a robe under which she was wearing. . . nothing?"

"Pretty much that's what happened."

"So she climbs into bed with you and puts her hand on your leg," Emma's hand went to his leg. "And she slides it on up. . . " as did Emma.

He put his hand over hers, stopping her from moving further up his leg. "Pretty much. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen came into my bedroom, into my bed and dropped her robe and I was swept away. I could not have resisted her, even if I had wanted to. And I sure as hell didn't want to." He smiled ruefully and very quietly he added, "She wasn't experienced, Emma. She had the memories of a strumpet, but she wasn't actually experienced."

"Wow," said Emma. "She must have been surprised."

"Yeah, I did my best to be gentle and kind and thorough, but her first time was a bit . . . awkward. After that it was . . . really nice. She liked being with me that way."

"A little too much information here," Emma commented.

"You asked," he reminded her.

"So you and Lacey, but how about you and Belle?"

"When Belle regained her memory with Reul's potion, she recalled what we had done and she . . . she insisted that she and I . . . "

"So you did."

"We didn't have much time. It was quick, not what I would have preferred."

"Poor baby," Emma still had her hand on his thigh. "I'm sure Belle appreciated what you were able to give her."

"She was always so gracious, even when it came to . . . " he didn't finish.

"Think you'll see her again?" Emma asked.

"No, I don't," he said flatly.

"Why not?" Emma had leaned forward and, unaware of it herself, was revealing the shadow of her cleavage to his glance. He looked away.

"There is a prophecy that a boy will lead me to my son," he said quietly.

"Which happened," Emma told him.

"And that same boy will be my 'undoing.'"

Emma sat back up again, her hand still on his thigh, "Wha?! Your what?"

"Somehow, Henry is to be connected with my death," Gold told her.

"Wait, the prophecy said your 'undoing?' That could be any number of things, not necessarily your death."

"Like what?" He had clearly given this much thought already.

"Maybe take away your powers?" she speculated.

"Which, given the number of very powerful enemies I have made, many of those people. . . entities. . . will be lining up to take a shot at me if I lose my powers and sooner or later, one of them will take me out. So taking away my powers is the same thing as my death. Any other brilliant interpretations?" he asked her caustically.

"Maybe. . . oh hell, I don't know." She settled back in next to him, her shoulder next to his. "This stuff is pretty strong," she held up her glass.

Gold lifted his arm and she nestled in with her head on his shoulder. "Did you and Bae, I mean after he came to Storybrooke?"

"No man. I was still so pissed at him. And then the fiancée came on the scene, so there was no chance. . . "

"You didn't think of trying to seduce him?"

"Nooo. That would have been wrong. I mean if the man had moved on, then I didn't want to be the one opening up old wounds."

"You were too proud to tell him how you felt and you were afraid you'd be rejected."

"Yeah, I guess I was," she admitted, damning him his intuition.

"We are both so unlucky. We both meet our True Loves and we both lose them," Gold told her.

"We didn't lose them. You and your son, both of you, threw True Love away. You kicked yours out. Mine set me up to take the fall for a theft and then split the country. Your son pushed me out of his life just like you pushed Belle out of your life. Neal said it was all so I could come to Storybrooke and break The Curse. But we could have had a happy life together," Emma's voice reflected anger and bitterness.

"But you would have never met your parents, never found out who you are, what you are. Coming to Storybrooke gave you everything you had been asking for."

"I still should have punched you in the face after I broke The Curse. What you did to everyone still pisses me off."

"I didn't cast The Curse. Regina did that."

Emma looked at him, "But somehow, I suspect, you pushed Regina into doing it. You manipulated her, just like you manipulated everyone else."

"I saw what needed to happen and I just helped things along. I got your parents together – you wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for me."

"Yeah, I'm sure I owe you a big debt of gratitude."

"You actually do, Emma. Not only are you here, but you're very gifted."

"And just how am I gifted, what is it that I am?" Emma asked him. "So I have this magical talent. How much?"

"A lot," Gold told her.

"More than you?"

He snorted at her and smirked and she had to restrain herself from throwing her glass at him.

"Come on," she cajoled him. "How much power do I have?"

"It's not just about the amount of power. It also involves control and . . . there is some knowledge, finesse, skill. . . these are things that you don't have. . . yet."

"Can I get them? Can you help me get them?" Emma asked him. "I'm going in to rescue my son and I have a feeling I'll need every bit of talent that I have."

"You will," he agreed. "Emma, are you asking me for magic lessons?" he asked slowly.

"Maybe. I know you don't give away anything. You'll want still had her hand on his thigh. She had leaned over and looked up at him. Her face was very close to his. Both were very, very drunk.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes flicked over her face. His eyes settled on her lips, her full, moist lips, slightly parted. Her eyes were not blue, but a deep green. Her hair was not a rich chestnut but a fair shining blonde.

She was beautiful.

And he was a condemned man.

And he would never see his True Love again.

He raised a hand to her arm, tracing up her shoulder. Emma didn't move.

His hand moved up from her shoulder and cupped her chin. They were very close.

Emma thought his eyes were like those of his son. If she closed her eyes. . . she leaned in and their lips touched, softly, gently, parting. She felt his hand move to the back of her head and he pulled her in, closer, tilting her head to get a stronger lock on her mouth. His kiss was sweet and warm, the liquor still on his tongue.

Emma felt his other hand move to her waist and work its way up, pulling up the shirt, taking it out of her pants. She had begun to pull his tie loose and work on the buttons of his vest, his shirt. He rolled her over so that she was lying beneath him. He briefly pulled away from her and looked at her.

"Emma, are you sure? Is this what you want to do?"

Too dizzy, too befuddled, not thinking straight, Emma answered. "Yeah, why the hell not? What else is there for us?" She pulled him down to her mouth and began to kiss him soundly.

Both of them fumbled with their own clothing and the clothing of each other, pulling, tugging, straining, gradually divesting each other of their garments and leaving each other open to the gaze of the other.

"My god, Emma, you are astonishingly beautiful," Gold told her, slowly kissing down her neck, caressing her breasts. They had been frantic only a moment before, but now they moved more slowly, more gently. Gold lingered over Emma's breasts, running his palm over the taut skin, pressing his palm to the nipple, then licking and kissing the nipple, and finally suckling on it. Emma could not restrain a soft moan. He continued with his caresses and dropped down his kisses to her stomach.

"You have a faint taste of cinnamon, my dear," he told her.

"Let me see how you taste," she told him, and gently pushed him onto his back so that she could kiss along his jaw, then down his neck then onto his chest, trailing her hands down, boldly dropping one of her hands below his waist, seeking out his very core, wrapping her hand around him and, most satisfactorily, this time, hearing him make a soft moan.

"You taste like coffee and whiskey and something else. . . like smoke," she told him.

"I do have a preference for the forces of fire," he agreed with her.

"Forces of fire? What does that mean?"

"Much of my magic is made of fire energy. You, my dear, I suspect, have an affinity for water. That's why you picked the name 'Swan' for yourself. That's why you are feeling energized on the ocean. . . so much water energy. I, on the other hand, feel faintly nauseated."

"So you're weaker here?" she asked fascinated.

"Not hardly, just faintly nauseated," he explained short-tempered, "but not so ill that I can't impress a lady," he smiled at her.

"Good, I was worried there," she was grinning at him and when he pushed her, she went along with it and found herself on her back with him propped up alongside and above her.

"You," he kissed her on the mouth, "have," he kissed her on the chin, "no," he kissed her on the right breast, "reason," he kissed her on the left breast, "to," he kissed her on the stomach, "worry," he kissed at the top of her cleft, causing her to unconsciously lift her body to him. She felt his tongue, first just the tip, then the flat of his tongue, pressing, licking, lingering against her. She closed her eyes and leaned back, simply enjoying the sensations he was evoking.

His fingers joined where his mouth was and he began to softly massage down into her ever-increasingly slick folds. He felt her fingers thread in his hair as he bent himself to teasing and tormenting her, pushing and pulling her towards satisfaction.

Emma was slow to respond, but surely, she began to gasp and he could feel her legs trembling and her stomach clenching as she began to ascend. He could hear short cries as she struggled to breath, struggled to resist, struggled to retain her sensibility.

He felt satisfaction when she was finally able to let go, her soft cries becoming a soft scream. He fastened his mouth on her overly sensitized nub, continuing pressure and stimulation to allow her to feel everything to the fullest.

Emma was still semi-stunned when she felt him shift his weight so that now he was pressing her down onto the mattress, his hard body fitting nicely against her softness, his angles against her curves. She opened her arms to him, welcoming the weight, feeling him begin to push against her.

She was ready, more than ready, but things did not go easily.

She looked up at him and she could see he was straining with effort. "I don't want to hurt you, Emma. You seem ready enough, but you're not letting me in."

"I haven't done this in a while and you. are not. so. small," she managed to tell him, holding onto to him, gripping him tightly.

He had to smile. _Brave girl._He took a deep breath and relaxed against her and again began to kiss her, nibbling on her lips, murmuring sweet sounds, soothing her, calming her down.

He could feel her relaxing, the muscles softening within her body. She began to kiss him back. He felt the tension leaving her arms and legs. Her eyes closed as she lost herself in the sheer pleasure his kisses were providing her. Her mouth opened to his. He fastened his mouth onto hers and then, without warning, he surged into her.

Her eyes flew open and she reflexively pushed against him, her cry swallowed by him as she objected to the intrusion. He didn't move, just allowed her to struggle as if she was trying to dislodge him.

"How long has it been, Emma? You are incredibly tight," he held himself still, letting her adjust, accommodate, accept him.

"Like about ten, eleven years?"

_Not since Bae, then._

He began to move in her, slowly, steadily, shifting her legs to allow him greater penetration, shifting her so that he would rub against her already sensitized clit. She was wet and receptive, her channel tight, sheathing him in a snug fit.

Emma felt the sensation of his bulk filling her, stretching her. It was incredibly satisfying. _How had she gone ten years without this? _She knew her body was changing, adapting to him, allowing him his way with her. And the stimulation, so powerful, so complete. She felt herself building one more time.

"Gold," she managed to gasp out. "Soon. . . soon."

He kept up his pace, driving, thrusting, then feeling her begin to tremble against him, not quite there, not quite there. He didn't stop, he continued, he was working to hold himself back, to let her peak.

_How had this woman gone ten years without a partner?_

His efforts were soon gratified as it wasn't long before he felt her tightening again, her inner muscles grasping his member and now she gave a series of sharp cries. And now he let go, pouring his life force into her in a satisfying succession of spurts.

He collapsed onto her, struggling a moment to catch his breath.

_Emma knew she was shivering, her body weakened, her strength, her energies dissipated._

"If I had known that sex with you," she was panting, "would be this good," she managed to get out, "I would have jumped you two years ago when I met you at Granny's."

Gold actually laughed. "I can't imagine you coming into my shop and pushing me into the backroom for a booty call. Although maybe when you had me in handcuffs and in the jail cell – I would have been helpless against your advance."

"I never thought of you that way, except. . ." Emma had rolled over onto her stomach and was looking down at him. "You had this one dark suit that you wore a black shirt with and a burgundy tie. Damn, you looked delicious. The back of that suit jacket just covering that fine ass of yours."

"You looked at my ass?" he asked.

"You looked at mine," she retorted.

"Yeah, but your ass is a ten, as you well know, given how you spray on those tight little jeans. Every man in town has looked at your ass. You take after your mother, who also has an excellent behind."

"Speaking of my mother, my daddy is not going to be happy about this turn of events."

"His little princess sleeping with The Dark One. No, I guess not. Well, we won't tell him, will we? I'll help you get out of here tomorrow morning and no one will be the wiser."

Emma smiled. _This sounded like a plan. He wanted her to stay the rest of the night. Tomorrow, they would deal with the fallout. _She laid her head on his chest. She snuggled against him, enjoying his warmth and smoky smell.

She drifted off.

. . . . . . . . . .

There was only a dim light seeping into the cabin signaling the approaching morning.

Emma came to and realized that her head really hurt. Really, really hurt. It approached a new level of pain, no it couldn't even be called pain any more. It was far beyond pain. It was _More Pain. Painzilla, Paintopia, Painopolis. _

She cautiously opened one eye. _Too bright!_

Emma then felt the up and down. She felt the back and forth.

She was on board that damn boat. She didn't want to move. It was soft and warm and. . .

She was with somebody.

_Oh lord, had that bastard Hook slipped her something?_

No, somehow she knew, she knew she wasn't with Hook.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!

Emma remembered.

She remembered.

"Gold?" she managed to raise her head. _How did she get here. Had he and she. . . ?_

He was watching her closely, a faint smile on his lips. "Good morning, Princess," he greeted her.

**A.N. I know, I know, Emma waking up in Gold's bed after a night of debauchery has been done (by me, along with others) but this ship-board scenario kept playing over in my head and I just had to write it down. Not sure if I will add chapters to this or not (I'll be watching the show to see if it might flow with their activities and if a full story comes to mind, well then, maybe - consider this a one shot for now). thx txm**


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